


Graceless

by JadeElite, RisingPhoenix761



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Crossroads Demon Crowley (Supernatural), F/M, Fluff and Smut, Language, Possessive Crowley, Ruler of Hell Crowley (Supernatural), SPN Heaven and Hell Bingo, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 13:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeElite/pseuds/JadeElite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingPhoenix761/pseuds/RisingPhoenix761
Summary: After his release from the Winchesters' dungeon, Crowley's hold on the throne of Hell is more vulnerable than ever. Determined to strengthen his claim, he seeks to produce an heir with his mistress, young Annabel Allan, a human with no family and a powerful secret she doesn't know she keeps.





	Graceless

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who doesn't need to start another WIP but is doing it anyway? This gal! Been working on this since February (I know, right) and I hope you like it. Shout out to JadeElite, without whom I wouldn't be writing this, and who'll be collaborating with me on the rest of the series. Enjoy!

“I want a baby.”

The look on her face was less surprised, more, “Have you lost your mind?” He couldn't blame her. He hadn't said a word to her since bursting through the door and snatching her up, pulling her in for a kiss. One simple gesture closed her front door and locked it again, then he pushed her back against the wall, hands sliding from her waist to her ass, lifting her. She didn't resist, wrapping her legs around him and unfastening his pants, while her skirt and panties were out of the way with a snap of his fingers.

It was quick and rough, primal, harsh thrusts driving her back into the wall. Feverish kisses that were as much teeth and tongues as anything else. Desperate hands reaching, clinging, grasping tight to whatever they could. And just as he felt her body clench around his in climax, he reached his own, releasing his seed inside her.

He stood with her braced between the wall and his body, his cock softening but his hold on her rock steady, and repeated, “I want a baby.”

“What?”

“Annabel…” He kissed her forehead. “Darling…” A kiss on her cheek. “I want--”

“I heard you, Crowley. I just don't understand.”

He heaved a sigh and leaned into her, fatigued from exertion, though the lingering traces of humanity in his blood took comfort in having her close.

He wasn't sure what to make of the feeling.

Finally free of the Winchesters’ dungeon after their aborted attempt to cure him and slam the door on Hell for good, it was safe to assume that Crowley's hold on the throne was at its most precarious. He had been away too long, and there would no doubt be a power struggle to take his place. He wasn't fool enough to think the entire kingdom would be glad to have him back, either; there were plenty who didn't want him in charge in the first place. His good looks and charisma weren't enough, he needed something else...something more…

He needed an heir.

Releasing his hold on the woman in his arms, he stood back to give her space to make herself presentable, running his eyes up and down her body. She was much different from the girl who first summoned him at the crossroads, alone and friendless and angry at the world. The years had changed her, transforming the near-child into an elegant woman. A decade as his pet also left its mark, but there was still some innocence left about her that held power of its own, as irresistible as it was untouchable.

“You know, a simple ‘hello’ works, too,” she told him, drawing her skirt back down over her hips and tugging the neckline of her dress into its proper place.

“Sorry, pet,” he replied, eyes settling on the hint of the tattoo across her breast left visible by the dress. “What can I say except I missed you.”

“Flatterer.” She smoothed out the last of the wrinkles in her dress but left her hair in disarray, giving him an inquiring look. “Where have you been?”

“Temporarily indisposed,” he replied. “Shall we continue this conversation elsewhere?”

She nodded and led the way to the living room. He took in the spectacular view out her window, priding himself in giving her such a nice place. Penthouse apartment, with a balcony, walk-in closets, a Jacuzzi, hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings, and the best view in the city. Only the best for his Annabel.

He waited for her to take a seat before doing so himself, and she prompted again, “Indisposed?”

“Unfortunately,” he replied. “Held prisoner, tortured for information, treated most shamefully. The only comfort I had was the thought of my sweet Bel waiting for me.”

She kept watching him with a shrewd, skeptical look, and he skipped the melodrama. “I had time to think about my position, and much as I hate to admit it, I'm losing hold of my kingdom.” He paused, allowing himself a wry smile. “It seems I'm not as popular with the masses as I used to be.”

“And you want a baby to...what? Boost your appeal?”

“You're close. I want an heir for my throne.”

“Okay… And why are you telling me?”

“Why do you think, little fox?”

She knew. He could see it in her eyes, along with her struggle to comprehend it, and he  _ really _ couldn't blame her.

When she first summoned him at the crossroads, she was bitter, desperate, ready to make a deal. Left to foster care and spending her childhood shuffled from one home to the next, finally landed with an unscrupulous family that kicked her out as soon as she came of age and lost any government assistance benefits, living homeless and coping with the danger of being a young, vulnerable woman on the street. What she wanted was simple enough: stability, security, a place to call home. It was quite maudlin, really, hearing her plead her case while half-starved, wearing every stitch of clothing she had to protect against the winter cold. She was as clean and groomed as she could be, bathing at the sink in whatever public restroom she could sneak into.

Pitiful.

He offered her the same deal he offered everyone else: ten years down to the minute with whatever she bargained for, then her soul was his for the taking. It was an open-shut deal, a simple agreement, a kiss to seal it, then he would see neither hide nor hair of her for another decade until it was time to collect his payment.

But she balked. What kind of deal was that, she had demanded, to have a measly ten years of the life she should have had all along, then spend eternity in hellfire to make up the balance? How was that a fair trade? He could take his ten years, and his contracts, and shove them up his ass for all she cared.

He would have walked away and left her to being miserable, but she was...  _ special _ . One look at her soul and there was absolutely  _ no way _ , he was letting her get away. Someone like her shouldn't even exist in the first place, and her summoning him was too good an opportunity to let slip by.

A new deal, then, an exclusive one-time offer. He would give her what she asked for and then some, a stable home, peace of mind, every want and need provided for. In exchange, she was his. Whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. He would treat her well, she could rest assured, as long as she remembered what was owed to him, her new master. The terms were gracious, and the bargain was in both party's interests. Did they have a deal?

They did, and she sealed it by blowing him in the middle of the crossroads.

She had the same look of consideration now as she did then, weighing his words with all due care. “You want me to have your heir?”

“Of course, pet. Who else?”

“Well, a demon, for one thing? If your goal is political stability, why not make an alliance while you're at it?”

“Darling, alliances with demons go south more often than geese for winter. We're all out for our own interests, you know that. There's no demon in Hell I could trust not to turn on me.”

“So you decide to sire your offspring with your human plaything?”

“Oh, come now. You're hardly a plaything. You're a consort to a king!”

“Mistress,” she corrected, “and his broodmare, apparently. Do I even get a say in this?”

“You get to do me the honor of saying yes.”

She still looked uncertain, and he beckoned her to him. She crossed to where he sat and, at his urging, settled onto his lap, adjusting her skirt to straddle him so they remained face to face.

“Annabel,” he said, holding his voice low and gentle, “I thought you would be happy. A family, that's all you ever wanted, and now you get the chance to have one…” He reached up to run his fingers through her hair, the deep red strands moving like water across his skin. From her hair to her face, tracing the soft line of her jaw with his thumb, watching her eyes flutter closed at his touch. “All I've ever done has been to make you happy. I've given you everything your heart desired, I've been so good to you all these years, as we agreed. I've asked for nothing but your companionship, but now…” He heaved a sigh, his hands falling to her hips. “It  _ has _ to be you. No one else will do.”

She mirrored his touches, running her fingers across his hands, flattening her palms against his chest and toying with the lapels of his jacket before moving to his face, her skin soft and supple on the stubble covering his jaw. “I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful,” she said slowly, “because I'm not. You've taken care of me, and I'm thankful for that…”

He didn't say another word, letting her talk herself into it a little at a time.

“...and that's...that's  _ all _ I've ever wanted, a family. But having a child as some sort of political bargaining chip--”

“Now, now, Bel, don't be dramatic. You have no such motive, do you? What do you stand to gain from this, apart from your heart's deepest desire?” He slid his hands along her thighs, reaching under her skirt to caress her skin. “Say yes, darling Annabel,” he murmured, gratified at seeing her shiver; she always reacted quite pleasingly to his voice. “Let me give you what you want most…”

“Well, maybe…”

“Maybe, you'll say yes…”

“Maybe, we'll talk about it a little more? This isn't something you decide on the spur of the moment.”

“Indeed. And I've had plenty of time chained in the Winchesters’ dungeon to think it over. But I'll be fair and give you a few days to think about it…” She relaxed, and he gave her a smile, moving his hands farther under her skirt. “Now, enough talk, pet. Show me how much you missed me.”

* * *

 

Annabel made her way to her usual table in the cafe, nodding briefly to the baristas behind the counter before taking a seat. She had barely settled in, taking her notebook from her bag and reaching for a pen, before somebody approached the table with her customary cappuccino. She offered thanks and a few bills as a tip, then opened the book and read what she wrote on her last visit.

The coffee shop around the corner from her apartment was her favorite place to get some peace and quiet. She tended to avoid the morning rush hour, and there was a nook in the back of the place that was out of the traffic and had a good view of the street outside. She would usually sit with her coffee and read, or people watch or write a little poetry, but she couldn't bring herself to any of those easily today. Crowley's proposal was still fresh in her mind, and she couldn't focus on much else.

She had been with him for ten years, and in that time he'd been as good as his word. She had a home, not just a roof over her head, stability, the peace of mind that came with knowing everything she could want or need would be provided. In return, she did whatever he asked of her. It wasn't  _ all _ sex, either, though there was a lot of that. He showed up at her apartment whenever he needed time away, a break from deals and contracts and whatever fresh drama was cooking in Hell. He left all of that at her doorstep like the penthouse was a vacation destination. And she did her best to deliver; whether he needed to fuck, vent, or take a breather, she gave him what he needed.

All in all, there were worse things she could be than Crowley's mistress. She was far from unhappy with how their arrangement worked out...but something was missing. She had everything she could ask for, yet the one thing she dreamed of most fervently was out of reach.

Family.

She had no memories of her mother, who died soon after giving birth to her. Labor complications, according to the report, though she had always understood it to mean she killed her by being born, something her father never forgot nor did he allow her to. She barely remembered her sisters, both older,  trying to give her the love they had, while their father went insane with grief. She wished she could forget him, his coldness to her, the way he resented her existence. Most of all she wanted to forget that smile he gave her, the one she couldn't believe was meant for her, when he took her on a day trip to that fancy bookstore. He promised her he'd be right back. She was six, so young she was of little help to the authorities, who eventually came for her, trying to find where she belonged. She never saw him or her sisters again.

She paused, cappuccino halfway to her lips, then set the mug down and wrote a few lines in her notebook.

_ Leah died a little girl _

_ At a bookshop in Missouri _

It was foster home after foster home from there, never staying long enough with people who seemed to care about her, and too long with people who only cared as long as there was a monthly check from the government. She supposed she was lucky that none of the homes she was placed in were ever abusive, at least not physically, except a ‘mother’ who punished her by extinguishing cigarettes on her arm. Neglectful, on the other hand… Neglect can do as much damage as outright abuse, and it's much easier. All one has to do is--nothing.

By the time she turned eighteen, she was starving for affection, or even just a little approval. All she got was a shove out the door, and it was the streets for her, trying to survive, more and more angry at the hand she was dealt, struggling with the feeling that maybe she was only getting what she deserved. She had to be worthless, or her life would be worth something, right?

And then she summoned Crowley.

Back then, it was hard to imagine how her life could get worse, standing at the crossroads with a spell she shouldn't know and nothing to her name but the clothes on her back and a worn-out copy of the works of Edgar Allan Poe. She felt no fear when the demon appeared, yet when he asked her what she wanted, she hesitated. To love and be loved, that was all, and instead, she asked for survival. And when he altered his terms and conditions for their deal, she didn't introduce herself as Leah, the child no one wanted.

_ Leah died a little girl _

_ At a crossroads in Kentucky _

From that day forward, she was Annabel Allan, mistress to the future King of Hell.

Her phone rang, and she answered it without looking. “Hello, Crowley.”

“Hello, little fox.” Even through the phone, she was powerless against that voice, a fact he enjoyed taking advantage of on occasion. “Have you considered my proposal?”

She sighed. “It's not even been twenty-four hours.”

“Since when have I been the patient sort?”

“And since when have I been the sort to make decisions without weighing the consequences? Otherwise, I'd be running from hellhounds and you'd be making your offer to someone else.”

“Ah, your humor  _ and _ your wit. You'd have made an excellent businesswoman. I should have sent you to school for it.”

“You know I don't have a head for numbers.”

He chuckled. “How can I help you make your decision?”

She shifted in her seat, tapping her pen on the table top. “I have some questions, and I want honest answers.”

“Of course, pet. Fire away.”

“Well, I guess first off…” She sighed and smiled to herself a little. “Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“I want a strong heir. I'll put my faith in whatever chromosomes win the genetic lottery.”

“Oh, wonderful. But what if the baby is unhealthy?”

“Impossible. Its lineage is pedigree stock.”

Sure. Okay. She bit her lip, clicking the pen a few times, and asked, “Are you going to be around?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've come and gone as you wanted the last ten years. Do you plan on keeping that up, or are you going to be there for the child you helped make? And what does this make me? Am I still just your pet, or…”

He waited a moment for her to go on, then prompted, “Or what?”

She sighed, jotting another few lines on the page. “I don't know. I'm just wondering how I'm going to fit into this if things go the way you're planning.”

_ Leah died alone _

_ Unwanted and cast aside _

“I can't make you my queen,” he replied. “It's too dangerous for you at court, let alone Hell. I've kept you safe by keeping you away, and I'll continue to do so.”

“So, I'll still only see you when I see you, and the same goes for the baby.”

“Now, Annabel--”

“Now, nothing, Crowley. You can't try to win me over on this with your usual bullshit sales tactics.”

She heard his sigh through the phone and pictured him on the other end, head tilted back and eyes closed in exasperation. “Then how can I? Need I emphasize how important this is?”

“I'm aware.  _ This _ is important. I, on the other hand, am just a warm hole and a convenient womb.”

“Annabel.” His tone changed immediately, soft but sharp and cold. “Remember who you're talking to.”

She fell silent, chastened. Her short temper amused him, but he would only let her get away with so much before he reminded her of her place.

“Annabel?” he prompted, his voice still sharp.

“Yes, Crowley,” she replied quietly.

_ Leah died and _

_ Nobody will ever find the body _

“Good.” He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. “Of course, your cooperation is important, and I won't violate the terms of our agreement by leaving you unhappy. Tell me what you want, and we can accommodate each other.”

_ Nobody even knows _

“Our original agreement stands,” she answered. “Stability. Security. Safety.”

“Naturally.”

_ Nobody even cares _

_ To love and be loved _ . The words stuck in her throat, trying to escape if she would let them. She swallowed them and asked, “What's the hierarchy in Hell that anyone will even acknowledge your heir? You took the throne because no one higher on the chain wanted to.”

_ Nobody cared _

_ Except me _

“I think you've answered your own question, pet. They'll acknowledge the strongest, the most powerful, whoever they think will make them the best offer. And this child will grow to be strong and powerful, rest assured.”

“How? It's only half demon.”

“Tell me, little fox, do you know what nephilim are?”

Her brow furrowed. Though it was foreign, the word resonated with something in her, like a plucked string on the violin of her soul. “Angels?”

“Close. The offspring of an angel and a human. Celestial grace and a soul to go with it. The most powerful beings in the universe, once they come into being.”

“O-okay…”

“Our child will be similar. The powers of a demon, and the soul of a human. The two of them combined would make it more powerful than any demon in existence.”

“But…” She ran a finger across the page, feeling the indentations left by her pen strokes, speaking softly. “But will you love it?”

“Sorry? What was that?”

“Will you love this baby? If anything ever happens to me, will you make sure our child is loved and cared for? I just...I can't let them grow up feeling unwanted and unlovable. I  _ won't _ .”

“Bel, sweetheart.” Did he realize how patronizing he sounded? Knowing Crowley, he probably didn't concern himself with it. “Demons can't feel the way humans can.”

“Then pretend! I don't care what you do, as long as you try. You have no idea how much it hurts to know nobody cares about you.”

There was silence on the other end and she took a deep breath, trying to steady the sudden onslaught of emotion. “Even if you can't feel it,” she said, “promise me you'll try.”

“All right. I promise.”

_ All that’s left of Leah _

“I need you to look me in the eye and say it.”

"Done."

The voice came through the phone the same time it fell on her other ear, and she looked up to see him sitting across from her, watching her intently. He continued to speak into the phone, but his eyes never left her face, his voice as serious and sincere as she ever heard it. "Annabel Allan, I give you my word that I will not leave you to raise our child on your own, and should anything ever happen to you, I will do my best to care for it as well as you would have done yourself."

_ Is a book of poems _

"Your best?" she repeated, mimicking him and talking into the phone.

She saw a flicker of a smile across his face before he amended, "Should anything ever happen to you, our child will never doubt for a moment that it's loved."

"You promise?"

"I'll write up a contract and sign it, if that's what it takes."

"You really want an heir, don't you?"

_ And cigarette burns _

"I want an heir with  _ you _ ."

Annabel looked down for a moment, staring at her words on the page before her while considering the words he had spoken, then looked back up at him and said, "We have a deal, then?"

He nodded. "We do."

She hung up and set her phone on the table, standing up and moving to his chair. "I know how you typically close deals," she replied to his questioning look. "I want this to be as binding as possible."

"Taking no chances, love?" he asked, returning his phone to his jacket pocket.

_ And a heart full of distrust _

"None," she answered, leaning down and kissing him. A ripple of magic passed through her, whatever power crossroads demons possessed to deliver on their promises, power he withheld all those years ago. They held up their bargain back then by mutual choice. This time, as he said, she was taking no chances, relying on his power to keep his word.

No child of hers would grow up the way she did.

Crowley was inscrutable as she drew away, still watching her every move as she reclaimed her seat. "Well," he said, "are you satisfied?"

"Yes," she told him, feeling apprehensive but resolved, with some stirrings of excitement. "I'll do it."

Another smile crossed his face as he reached across the table to cover her hand with his. "You won't regret this, sweet Annabel."

She felt a smile trying to mirror his. "Well, I'd hate to disappoint my king," she replied. "You've kept your end of our agreement. It's only fair that I make you happy as well."

 

"Oh, my lovely little fox," he said, his smile growing. "You've made me very happy indeed."


End file.
